Page 64 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

Miss Sinclair grabbed Helena’s wrists, clamping them in an iron grip. “This will ruin any chance you have for marriage. You must fix this.”

“I-I don’t know how,” Helena said, lifting her head.

The Duke of Lennox would never speak to her again.

“Try!” Miss Sinclair squeezed harder, her eyes blazing. “I won’t lose you.”

“And…” Helena swallowed. “If the rumor is true?”

“No.” Paling, Miss Sinclair released Helena and took a step backward.

Her eyes rolled backward in her head, and Miss Sinclair collapsed in the snow, a cloud of white fluff flying into the air above her unconscious body.

“Miss Sinclair?” Kneeling, Helena shook the young woman, but she wouldn’t open her eyes.

Helena’s head swung between the path leading to her front door and Miss Sinclair. She couldn’t abandon Miss Sinclair in the snow, even for the few minutes it would take to retrieve assistance. Shoving her hands under Miss Sinclair’s arms, Helena lifted Miss Sinclair’s torso and jerked her toward the break in the iron fence.

When she dragged Miss Sinclair onto the path, Helena stopped, resting Miss Sinclair’s head against her thigh. Twisting around, she cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Help!” The word rolled toward her house.

A minute later, the front door creaked open, and Miss Fernsby-Webb peeked her head out.

“Nora!” She yelled for her sister as she ran toward Helena.

Slipping on a patch of ice, Miss Fernsby-Webb crashed into Helena, knocking her over. Helena lost her hold on Miss Sinclair, dropping her beside the icy branches of a bare rose bush.

Miss Webb rushed toward them, skidding on the same slick spot. However, she managed to maintain her balance. Releasing a trembling chuckle, Miss Webb planted her feet, then extended her arm to her sister and hauled Miss Fernsby-Webb upright. Together, they assisted Helena, each of them grabbing an arm. Once Helena was firmly established, they turned, assessing Miss Sinclair.

“If each of you takes a leg,” Helena said, cautiously inching toward Miss Sinclair’s head, “I’ll carry her torso.”

The sisters agreed, and after counting to three, they lifted at the same time, staggering slightly as they struggled to maintain their footing. Then, with Miss Fernsby-Webb directing, Helena took a blind step backward, then another, and another, the trio moving in unison.

In this slow manner, they shuffled toward the door, none of them speaking until they crossed the threshold. Arms burning, Helena paused and adjusted her grip, struggling not to drop Miss Sinclair in the foyer.

“What happened?” Mrs. Hawkins rushed toward them.

She grabbed hold of Miss Sinclair’s arm, easing some of the weight, and helped carry her into the parlor. They maneuvered around a settee, aiming for the sofa nearest the fireplace, and stretched Miss Sinclair out on the cushions.

“Where did you find her?” Mrs. Hawkins asked, stuffing a pillow beneath Miss Sinclair’s head.

“She stopped me outside,” Helena said, winding her fingers together and dropping to the floor beside the sofa. “She was distraught because her mother forbade her from associating with me.”

Miss Webb frowned. “Why would she make that declaration? Mrs. Sinclair has never met you.”

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Hawkins brushed a piece of blonde hair from Miss Sinclair’s face. “I’ll fetch some water and a cloth. Don’t move her.”

“Thank you,” Helena said, waiting until Mrs. Hawkins left the room before adding, “Mrs. Sinclair’s decision was determined by today’s newspaper.”

There was no purpose in lying. She couldn’t prevent them from reading the damning gossip. Her heart rose to her throat as Miss Fernsby-Webb darted toward the front door. A moment later, it opened and shut.

Would they depart immediately, choosing to stay in rented lodgings or, worse, their mother’s home over the house of a reprehensible liar and thief?

The outer door slammed again, shaking the walls.

“Miss Helena Rowe is new to Wiltshire but not new to love.” Miss Fernsby-Webb marched into the parlor, clutching the wrinkled newspaper in her trembling hand. “Nora, you need to read this.”

Helena froze, trapped on the floor beside Miss Sinclair as Miss Webb floated in slow motion across the room and bent her head, reading over Miss Fernsby-Webb’s shoulder. When Miss Webb reached the end of the paragraph, she gasped, lifting her gaze to Helena.